


Needing Edmund

by StarrAngelofNarnia



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: BAMF Edmund Pevensie, Back in England, Corporal Punishment, Domestic Discipline, Mentions of Susan and Lucy, Non-Consensual Spanking, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Post-Narnia, Tags May Change, time period appropriate discipline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrAngelofNarnia/pseuds/StarrAngelofNarnia
Summary: Life after Narnia is difficult for the Pevensies. For some of them, it's more difficult than for others.
Relationships: Edmund Pevensie & Peter Pevensie
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Needing Edmund

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I've written as a special request so I'm excited to post it! I hope the requester enjoys it as well and I kept of their vision in tact. 
> 
> For now, this is a one-shot between Edmund and Peter but I may expand it to a four-chapter work, with each character having their own chapter. The ideas are there, but they are still just baby plot bunnies. 
> 
> Comments + Kudos = <3

Edmund ran down the stairs, pushing past people as swiftly as possible. His brother was in that scuffle. A group of boys, at least 10 big were yelling and shouting in each other’s faces, and Peter was at the center of it. A crowd was starting to gather around the group of boys in the center of the courtyard, waiting and hoping that the argument would turn into an exchange of fists rather than words.

“What an idiot,” Edmund muttered to himself, scanning the crowd for the boy Peter had pushed aside. He didn’t know the student well, but he knew he was about Lucy’s age so he could see why Peter might get so defensive of this particular student. But fist fights were never the way to handle things. Peter hardly did things civilly nowadays. It was almost as if he went looking for fights.

Keeping an eye on his brother and the growing scuffle, he weaved his way through the crowd to where the boy was standing, looking quite distraught. Edmund tapped him on the shoulder, and he flinched away. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I’m Edmund, I can help if you need it,” he offered, watching his brother circle the ring of boys, not losing eye contact with the all too familiar bully at the other end of the circle. But he’d worry about his brother’s stupid choices later. Right now, someone else needed help.

“I think…” the smaller boy began. He seemed as if he was in shock. “I think I’m okay. Just starving. Richard stole my lunch this morning.”

“Here have this,” Edmund pulled an uneaten sandwich from his own bag and offered it to the boy right as a teacher approached. Ms. Smith was one of the school’s math teachers and one of the only women involved in administration.

“Thank you,” the boy whispered, as Ms. Smith directed him away from the crowd. Feeling as though that situation was now adequately being taken care of, he turned back to his brother. The crowd of onlookers had only grown in size and the stairs now resembled a crowded stadium with how many students had stopped to observe.

The notorious bully, Richard, had Peter by the collar and was inches away from his face. “How about when I’m having a friendly discussion with a fellow student, you stay the hell out of it Pevensie?” he growled in his face. But Peter remained stoic.

A whistle screeched and the other students scattered like ants, but the showdown continued, mostly unphased by the appearance of administrators. The only thing that had changed in the midst of the fight was that Richard had shoved Peter away, probably in an attempt to make it seem like the fight had not grown physical. Fighting wasn’t tolerated, but the consequence for physical violence was even more severe than a simple detention. Even the school bully knew to back down from a physical fight.

Peter straightened out his clothes, now that they had been released from the other boy’s grasp. “Hell, if I’m gonna leave you alone when you start something. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, for once, Dick?” Peter growled.

Peter was so close to making the right decision; he had turned to walk away and leave. But Richard wasted no time sneering back at him, “Even if I were to pick on someone my own size Pevensie, it still wouldn’t be you, twerp!”

High road forgotten, Peter turned in a blind rage, his fist connecting with Richard’s nose. The older boy stumbled back, blood running down his face, and Peter took the moment of distraction to aim his knee into the kid’s groin. Richard fell to his knees and the remaining audience members cheered.

“Alright, break it up. Break it up!” The school resource officer had just entered the courtyard and he slammed himself in between Peter and Richard. Keeping his fist tightly around the back of Peter’s shirt, he picked the group apart, passing off each boy he separated from the fight to a waiting administrator. “The rest of ya’ll get to class, unless you wanna watch and find out what happens to trouble-makers in my school.”

“Maybe if some of the administrators gave a shit and did their job, I wouldn’t have to get involved,” Peter shouted in the direction of the onlooking staff. Edmund cringed. Peter just didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.

Despite the warning to get to class, Edmund remained, looking on sadly. He was no stranger to seeing Pete involved in fights at this point, but he still ached for his older brother when it happened. Peter was so used to being seen as an authority, he struggled in London. But this time, Peter had crossed a line.

Ms. Smith had returned and happened to spot him observing from the shadows. Quietly, she approached him. “Edmund, you’ve been a great help. But you should get to class dear. Peter will be fine.”

Now the officer noticed him too. “This your brother?” he asked, shoving Peter in front of Edmund as if he were asking for identification of a dog rather than a human. Peter looked at him with a look of shame. And Edmund could feel thousands of eyes boring into him, as the other onlookers who had not taken the officer’s warning watched the exchange.

Edmund didn’t break eye contact with his brother. “Yes, officer,” he replied cordially. “This is my brother.”

The officer snorted in disgust. “Then keep him here,” he commanded, turning away. “Let him take a lesson from his dear old brother what happens to delinquents.”

Ms. Smith rested an apologetic hand on Edmund’s shoulder before leaving him. He kept his distance, joining the crowd of onlookers, as the 7 boys who had been picked from the fight, Peter included, were lined up facing the wall. “Put your hands up on the wall in front of you! And I better not see any of you moving out of position. You’re all getting a paddling.”

The first five boys up to face the firing squad had been supporting characters in the fight so their turn under the principal’s paddle had been harsh, but short, 10 swats long each. While the principal dished out the punishment, the officer observed, ensuring that none of the boys caused any more problems for the administration. Richard was the next to have his turn. “You get a nice healthy dose of the paddle Mr. Jones,” the principal explained, lining up the paddle with Richard’s backside to set his aim. “History tells me you started all of this.” The paddle came down squarely a total of 22 times on the older boy. Edmund counted silently, personally of the opinion that considering bullying was on the list of transgressions, 20 hadn’t been enough. Especially with the show he was making it, screaming and cursing with every swat. At least the cursing had landed him an extra 2 at the end.

Now Peter was up. “Mr. Pevensie. I expect better of you,” the principal tsked as he now took his place behind Peter. “Your motives make no difference if you act like a child and not like a man.” With a heavy CRACK, the paddle landed squarely on Peter’s backside. But prideful as he was, he didn’t budge. The paddle came down a second time, CRACK, and still, Peter kept his ground. His hands and feet did not move and the only sign that he had been even slightly affected by the punishing swats was the movement of his head, ducking into a submissive position. CRACK, CRACK, CRACK. The paddle landed three more times in quick succession and this time Peter’s knees buckled for just a moment before he regained his composure.

Edmund winced as the paddle came down again with another echoing CRACK. Of course, he knew how awful a paddle was. He’d been on the receiving end before, but he’d also been on the delivering side. And although it wasn’t nearly as harsh as a whip or a belt, by no means was it pleasant. With two more, CRACK, CRACK, Peter’s composure broke, and he let out a strangled sob. And Edmund’s heart ached for his brother. Though it was horrible to watch, and he did have to force himself to keep from turning away, his brother needed this. Child or not, this was not how a king behaved. Even if he no longer had the power bestowed upon him in Narnia, he knew better.

Now with each CRACK, the principal had to pause for a moment to give Peter time to get back into position. And by the tenth CRACK, Peter was openly sobbing. From his standpoint, and with his knowledge, Edmund was severely hoping that the principal didn’t equate Peter’s actions with those of the prick who had started this whole thing, though mouthing off certainly hadn’t helped his case. But thankfully, after five more forceful CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK the blistering ended.

“I don’t want to find any of you here again or you’ll find yourself suspended. And Mr. Jones, if you end up on my radar again, it’s expulsion for you.” The older man pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “Classes are almost over for the day so there’s no need to go disturbing anybody.” He turned back to address the students who had lingered to watch. “But all of you better clear out, and get back to your dorms, got it?”

The lineup of boys all mumbled “Yes, sir,” as the observers, no longer having anything else interesting to watch, shuffled on their way.

“You’re dismissed.” As the boys left their positions under the watchful eye of the administrators and officer, Edmund finally emerged from the shadows. Peter, however, didn’t move from the wall. Edmund glanced over to the school principal, cautiously checking that he wasn’t crossing a boundary. But thankfully, the principal gave him a nod in approval before following the other six students, leaving the courtyard empty and the brothers alone.

Edmund cleared his throat, wanting his brother to know he was there without startling him. “You okay, Pete?” he asked, cautiously approaching his eldest brother. He offered him a handkerchief he had pulled from his school bag.

“How much of that did you see?” Peter asked, wiping his face with the back of his hand. How humiliating, to cry like a toddler over a whacking. He’d suffered sword injuries worse than that as a King. But that’s what had gotten him here in the first place, wasn’t it? He wasn’t a king anymore.

Edmund shrugged nonchalantly, hoping the gesture would relieve at least some of his brother’s humiliation. “I saw the fight. And what started it. Actually, decided it was best for me to not intervene this time.” Since returning to school, Peter had not adjusted well. After a fifteen-year rule, he’d been thrown back into a world that was no longer his, with half of his 28 years of living whisked away from him like he’d woken from the most wonderful dream into a horrible nightmare. He had more authority thrust on his shoulders at 13 than most adults, but now here he was at 17, as nothing more than a school-boy.

Peter found Edmund’s eyes. “And I suppose you agreed I deserved what I got?”

“The whacking?” Edmund smirked. Though Peter had a hard time with their new plight, Ed was taking it in stride. “Depends on who you’re asking. Edmund Pevensie? Or Edmund the Just?”

“The answers would be different?” Peter asked, a red-flushed eyebrow raised. It felt odd, being the weaker one aside his younger brother. But at the same time, nobody deserved that position of respect more than Edmund did.

“Well, Edmund the Just definitely thinks you deserved it and it was about time someone did something to curb your idiotic behavior,” he explained in mock sternness. “But Edmund, your brother, thinks Richard deserved to have his stupid nose punched off his face.”

Peter let out the slightest chuckle. “He did, didn’t he?”

“There’s a reason everyone cheered when you decked him,” Edmund commented as he took a seat on the nearby step, giving Peter the space to compose himself without leaving him alone. “But Pete, maybe next time someone is bullying one of the younger kids, you should just tell a teacher.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll remember that. Go tell a teacher who has half as much leadership experience as I do. Especially if I go to one of the women. The women here are treated as second-rate faculty despite outnumbering the men. So sure, I’ll do that! What a great idea,” he scoffed, gingerly lowering himself onto the step next to Edmund. He winced when his backside finally made contact with the smooth stone.

Now it was Edmund’s turn to sass. “Oh, because getting your own arse blistered is definitely a better way to solve the problem.”

Peter turned to Edmund and glared. “Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious Pete. Part of being a leader is knowing when to rely on someone else. When we were in Narnia, we all ruled together for a reason. You might not be a king here in England, but you will always be king. And getting into fights all the time, isn’t very kingly.”

“Neither is tattling to a teacher, in case you weren’t aware.”

“It’s only tattling if you’re trying to get someone in trouble for no reason. Think of it as reporting. Being king means more than being the ultimate authority. It means being a leader. And sometimes, being a leader means knowing what your limits are, and passing off responsibility when something is out of your hands.

“Nobody expects you to stand idly by when there is trouble. Just think things through, as King Peter the Magnificent would have, instead of acting irrationally.”

“This has been so much easier for you.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation Peter made, as he looked toward his brother with frustration and awe.

“Yes, but you’re not me. And I’ve seen first-hand what corruption can do, how harmful it can be. So, I feel comfortable with knowing how I lead best and letting someone else take the reigns when it’s not my place. Be the best leader you can be, royalty aside. And everything else will eventually fall into place.”

Peter smiled at Edmund. “You’ve grown up so much. And I don’t think I’ve told you how proud I am of you, Ed.”

“You should be. It takes a lot of work to keep you out of trouble,” he teased, nudging Peter with his shoulder.

“Keeping me out of trouble? You little…” Peter lunged at him just as Edmund jumped off the step. Peter just managed to grab him, his arm wrapped around his brother’s torso, and the two of them wrestled all the way back to the dorms.


End file.
